Temporal Leap: Incipiens Reborn
by The Silent Orator
Summary: A journey ended in one life, only to be resumed in the next. A chance to engage in a world only dreamed of, with people only ever met through a screen, on a monumental quest of unimaginable scale - all for a chance at the afterlife? Sounds like a good deal to me. A Mass Effect SI, and a retcon of the original Temporal Leap: Incipiens.
1. Chapter 1: Revelations

.

* * *

 **TEMPORAL LEAP: INCIPIENS REBORN**

 **RESURRECTION**

 **ONE: REVELATIONS**

* * *

Human beings are creatures of habit. The world around us may change, but there are always certain things whose daily presence we naturally take for granted. Mundane things, like the feeling of your mattress, the climbing sun peeking in through the windows, a morning cup of coffee. Vital things, like being able to feel your limbs, see your hands...or to have a body at all.

So when I came to one day without any of those things, I was understandably rather perturbed.

I was enveloped in a strange sensation of weightlessness, as if I was floating along on some sort of current. It wasn't even as if I had a cohesive form of some sort and outside was a metaphorical river pulling me along, no… Instead, I felt... _infused_ into the current itself, with no discernable distinction between myself and whatever it was that was drawing me into the unknown. It was dark, almost oppressively so. I couldn't see it - if the term even applied here - but I felt it. The blackness was a _presence_ , not quite tangible or capable of being grasped, but always looming in the background, as if I were a stream of molecules drifting towards a black hole, with the current acting as its gravity.

Anyone would have expected to be metaphorically shitting themselves by that point, but I didn't - or more accurately, I _couldn't_. Something about my new world had locked my consciousness into a state of hyperawareness, suppressing everything irrelevant to receiving stimuli. The cold fist of fear that would have been crushing my heart anywhere else was nowhere to be found. Instead, I simply existed, bound to this alien state of limbo.

I drifted along like that for a while. I don't know how long it took, or if time was even still of any relevance in that space. But I do remember when it started to change.

It began with my state of diffusion. Before I had been one with the current, unable to tell the difference between myself and my strange carrier. But now, I could start to feel heat, and an increasing sense of...cohesion, if you could call it that. Simultaneously, I felt the pull of the current pick up, slowly transitioning from a leisurely drift to a focused tug.

Then the fireworks started. Brilliant pulses of light in every color of the spectrum imaginable, synthesizing and flaring up into a giant cone of luminosity, slowly melding into a blindingly pure expanse of white. I was now hurtling through the center of the cone as vast sheets of light soared out and away, as if driving the darkness back. My speed was blinding now, as I shot forward at an impossible velocity, and then I was falling, falling…

* * *

The falling stopped, and I opened my eyes.

The first thing that popped into my mind was the fact that I _had_ eyes now, which meant…

I looked down, and saw that my body was whole again, features and all. Apprehensively, I wiggled my extremities to make sure they worked. They did, to my relief. My clothes had disappeared, leaving me completely nude. I shivered reflexively and rubbed my arms together, taking some small comfort in the warmth.

As if in response to my thoughts, a set of neatly folded clothes appeared at my feet; a simple white collared dress shirt, grey boxer shorts, black dress pants, matching socks and shoes. Stooping down, I examined them curiously for a second before putting them on without further thought, merely glad to have some form of clothing available.

With that addressed, I turned to take in my surroundings.

I stood in the center of a small white box of a room, brightly lit by lights that weren't there. It was completely unremarkable, featureless save for a single opaque glass door, a simple affair with a blinking red light that flashed green as I tentatively stepped towards it. The door hissed softly before sliding open to reveal an executive office suite, of all things.

Large sheets of frosted glass window stood on all four sides. A rather modern and expensive-looking office desk occupied the center of the room, with a simple but comfortable chair on my side of the room and a sleek leather swivel chair opposite. But what most caught my eye was the asari sitting in the swivel chair, elbows on the table and drumming her fingers on the polished wooden surface. "Come in." she called, "Take a seat. Or don't," she continued, as I remained standing there, staring blankly at her. "Floor works too."

I took the chair.

"Now…" she grumbled, rummaging through her drawers, "where the hell did I...ah." She pulled out a thick folder and turned to the beginning. "Activate case file for Mr. Li." she said aloud, pulling up a holographic screen.

I felt a tingling in the back of my skull, and then a wave of lightheadedness, as if some mental block had been lifted, and my mind was suddenly racing at a hundred miles a second.

 _What...where...how….?_

I twitched momentarily, then threw up.

"Ugh...fuuck…"

"Great." the asari muttered. I heard her press a button, and the mess on the floor was slowly sucked into the ground through some sort of cleaning system. A glass of water appeared, with which I gratefully rinsed out my mouth before spitting it all out into a helpfully provided bucket. "Better?"

"Yeah." I said dazedly. "Thanks." Then, something clicked into place that hadn't before in my dazed state of mind. "Wait, so you're-"

"An asari, yeah."

"But-"

"Asari."

"So-"

"Uh-huh."

"And-"

"Yup."

My jaw dropped. "What the hell..."

"Well, I'm not _a_ asari, strictly speaking." the asari said, doing nothing to dispel my confusion and absolutely everything to further it. "I just liked the form. The _real_ asari have their crests crammed up their collective asses, but what the hell, the whole "long life" thing seemed fitting. Speaking of that, congratulations."

"...thanks?" I ventured, clueless as to what she was talking about. "What did I do, exactly?"

"You won."

"That's great..." I responded. An awkward silence. "Won what?"

"The game of life, so to speak."

"The game of li-" I stopped as my brain finally came to the obvious conclusion. A moment of silence followed as I mentally rebooted. " _What._ "

"It happens." the asari shrugged.

"How?" I whispered. I had to know.

"Freak accident. Small plane cuts out while coming in for a landing and plows into the highway hitting three cars, including your own. You take the brunt of the impact and die instantly. Done."

"Dead." I muttered hollowly. "Fuck me..."

"I'll pass." the asari said drily. "Besides, your files say here that you hadn't quite gotten to tha-"

"Oi!" I spluttered indignantly, springing upright and glaring.

The asari grinned, then turned a page in the folder. "So...Alex Li. Nineteen years old, Taiwanese-American, attending school at the University of Washington. Born in Grand Rapids, Michigan, currently residing in Santa Clara, California. Born to parents Jessica Xiang and Liam Li, had you and one other child, currently wrapping up a nasty divorce and etcetera, etcetera, you're dead, I know all your shit, no point in repeating your whole damn life story." The folder snapped shut, the asari tossing it casually to one side. She leaned back and regarded me with a seasoned air, as if this was all very routine for her. "Do you know where you are?"

I chuckled mirthlessly, the finality of my demise bestowing upon me a feeling of grudging acceptance. "I guess so. Limbo? Purgatory?"

The asari shrugged. "More or less. I'm Saffron, your supervisor."

"...I have a supervisor now." I said flatly.

"I'll explain more in a little bit. Now, I'm not going to bore you with any lofty existential crap, but you are here, dead, hearing your life choices coming to fruition, and that means that you _do_ have a choice to make."

 _Slow_ breath. "I'm not going to hell or anything, am I?"

"Nah." Saffron answered casually. "Generally, there would be more yelling on my part and more pants-shitting on yours. Besides, you're far off from the type of person who might even have a chance of going to the firepits."

"Well, that's nice." I muttered.

"That still leaves you a few options." the asari explained. "You can choose to have your spirit processed and recycled, which means that it'll be purged and then transferred to another living being somewhere else in the universe. That will mean the effective end of your life as you know it and the obliteration of your consciousness."

I regarded her with the skepticism of Spock in the middle of a tea leaf reading.

"Is the good place an option for you? Well, here's how it breaks down. To qualify for the good place, we generally look for a few things. No assholes. People who've lived their lives to the fullest, who strive to leave the world a little better than when they came into it, and do it all for an intrinsic sense of what's right rather than out of an expectation of eternal afterlife. Self-actualization, in a way."

Despite myself, I let out a snort and chuckled for a moment. _Oh man, so much for the hellfire and brimstone gods of Earth religion…_

"Ironic, no?" Saffron commented, as if reading my mind. To be real, she probably had. "The ones who act nice hoping for eternal payout usually just get sent straight to the recycle. Try again!" she called, as if she were consigning someone to the dustbin right there.

"So, where do I fit into all this?" I asked, shifting in my seat.

"Getting to it. Now, we split this category into two groups. One, there are people who've spent the majority of their lives as outlined previously. They're granted access to the good place without a hitch. Most do, but some choose not to and instead just want to close out their lives, so we let them. Note that if anyone who chooses the good place eventually reaches the point where they're irrevocably bored shitless, they can still choose to then head to the recycle and have their spirit purified and their consciousness terminated at that point in time."

My jaw dropped just a tiny bit in astonishment.

"Then we get the other group, which includes people who came to the realization later in life that they wanted to live their lives in this manner, but died before they could really act on it. That includes you."

I swallowed nervously and tried not to squirm.

"So," Saffron said, casually leaning back in her chair, "what we do is give people like you the opportunity to go somewhere fresh. Call it another world, timeline, alternate universe, whatever. You get the chance to live another life in that world and effect some positive change with that new life and new life mentality. In return, you get an opportunity at a nice retirement in the afterlife."

I looked at Saffron's blue skin, her crest, her _asari-ness_ , and suddenly everything slid into place. Truth be told, I had almost stopped noticing, having been so absorbed by my new situation. "Mass Effect." I mouthed.

"Ten out of ten for context. Mass Effect. I think you can imagine what we want you to do. As your supervisor, I'll be handling your case and providing limited support once you're on the ground. Suggestions on your next options, intel, things like that. But ultimately, we try to place an emphasis on autonomy. Now, that pretty much covers all I really need to say, but I'm sure you have questions. So if you have them, shoot."

I thought for a bit, and decided to ask the least life-threatening question first. "What happens to the people who go to hell?"

Saffron gestured indifferently. "They stay there and suffer for a bit while we put the screws to them. Once they've been broken, we purge their spirits vigorously and then send them to the recycle." Seeing my expression, she added, "Past a certain period, there's really no point in keeping spirits around. Once we've made our point, they're just taking up space."

I was taken aback at the clinicalness of her explanation, but I asked the next question regardless. I was feeling comfortable enough around Saffron, so I didn't _think_ that she would condemn me to the inferno for asking. At least, I hoped so. "So..." I said, feeling my heart rate start to rise, "how am I supposed to know that any of this is real? Or that this isn't some sort of elaborate ruse?"

Internally, my heart reached a muffled crescendo.

But to my relief, the asari merely shrugged. "Well, think about it. If you're dreaming, then you know there are certain things you can do to check for dreaming; distorted reflections, telekinesis, foggy perception, whatever. Go ahead, try it."

I tried, with no success.

"You ask if this is real. Well, what the hell is real? How do you define real? At its essence, real is just a series of electrical signals being translated by your brain." She tapped her forehead. "Sight, smell, taste, touch. All of it."

I grinned at the reference.

"Now, this could very well be a trick. Someone could be feeding your brain false signals right now and you would never know it. So how do you know you can trust me? You don't." She shrugged again, holding out her hand. A cup of coffee appeared, and she took a sip. "You can't know for sure. You'll have to decide for yourself."

I processed that for a bit, and finally nodded in acceptance. _She's right. This is my reality now, like it or not. Hopefully, assuming it all stays consistent…then I can know that it's real._

"So," I eventually said, "tell me more about this assignment."

* * *

"...fair amount of latitude on this mission," Saffron was saying. "I'll leave it to you as to where and when you want to be inserted. I can give you more location-specific details once you decide." She gestured vaguely. "There's a table over there, with a pen and notepad. Go ahead and think it through. I'll be here."

I meandered over to the table and took a seat. Over the next hour while alternating between bursts of furious scribbling and long stretches of thoughtful stillness, I ended up hammering out the following:

 _ **Specifics of Dropoff**_

 _ **Gameplan?**_

 _Possibilities:_

 _Join Shepard. Benefits: Known quantity, known timeline and locations. Chance to meet some of my favorite characters! Cons: Less freedom of movement. Many paths closed. Extras: Heavy combat._

 _Strike out on own: Pros: Freedom of movement. More paths available. Cons: Hard to get access to people up high, have to establish myself from the ground up. No nostalgia factor. No plan?_

"Damn." I muttered, and stood up to pace around the table, thinking furiously all the while.

The decision turned out to be a simple matter of breaking down opportunity costs. Quite plainly, I had the best chance to use my foreknowledge and get it to higher-ups with the influence of the first human Spectre...not to mention the future Shadow Broker, a krogan warlord, a quarian admiral, a turian archangel, and _another_ human Spectre. With that, I crossed out _S̶t̶r̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶w̶n̶_ and put a checkmark next to _Join Shepard_.

My eyes flickered to the next item on the list, which read _"Year of Insertion"_

"Something not too far off, but enough time to prepare…" I muttered, "When might that be..?"

After three instances of chewing lightly on my pen and another lap around the table, I scribbled down " _August 2182"._

"Now..."

 _ **Possible Locations**_

 _Citadel_

 _O̶m̶e̶g̶a̶ no shit_

 _Illium_

 _Earth_

 _Thessia_

 _Sur'Kesh_

 _Palaven_

 _T̶u̶c̶h̶a̶n̶k̶a̶ are you fucking serious?_

After a bit of thought, I crossed out two more and added addendums:

 _P̶a̶l̶a̶v̶e̶n̶ still lingering animosity from First Contact. Cold reception at best, hostile one at worst._

 _I̶l̶l̶i̶u̶m̶ Would probably end up either as someone's slave or lying facedown in some alleyway with a knife in my back._

"Shit." I muttered, as another point arose. I needed to be in a place that Shepard could be relied on to visit consistently and over an extended period of time. With that, I crossed out a few more items, and was left with…

"Huh." I murmured to myself. "Well...I always did want to visit the Citadel."

* * *

"Looks good." Saffron said, sliding my notes back across to me. "You're sure about everything?"

"Yeah." I said, trying not to second-guess myself.

"Great." she said, yawning loudly. "Dammit, more coffee." she muttered, and summoned another cup.

"Why would a higher being be drinking coffee?" I asked curiously.

Saffron made a face. "Just because we have powers and responsibilities on another plane of existence doesn't mean we lack the ability to enjoy normal things. Hell, having access to cool perks is half the fun of this job."

I cocked my head. "Just how do you fit into this whole hierarchy of...spiritual moderation, I guess you could call it?"

Saffron took another sip and nodded agreement. "Yeah, about. There's not really a name for it per _se_ , but it works. I operate as part of a loose collective of powers, and together we manage all the billions of deceased souls coming in from the various universes. Generally, we operate autonomously, only answering to a panel when we screw up and break the rules. Those are temporary, assembled for the sole purpose of judging that one case and then to disband immediately afterwards. Everyone is in rotation to be an arbitrator on one case or another, so it's a fairly even power distribution." The asari paused to shuffle and sort some folders. "Screw-ups are rare, though - rare enough that I haven't served on a panel yet. There simply haven't been enough cases for the rotation to come around to me."

There was a short silence while Saffron typed out a few things and I toyed with the fabric on my chair. "What kind of rules are we talking about here?" I queried.

"Abuse of power, mostly. We don't like it when power of our calibre is brought into play in standard universes, mostly because it tends to fuck with the temporal stability and fundamental fabric of that universe. Too many variables and chances to screw things up. That's why we seek out people like you for jobs like this."

I looked at her curiously. "Explain?"

"You're what we call an agent. Your origin is from a standard universe and thus you possess no more inherent power than any other sapient being of complex intelligence. We're what you might call 'higher beings', fundamentally different because of the powers that we possess. Since you don't have those powers, you are unable to cause chaos and pandemonium in your new universe and thus can operate without the need for so much restraint. Then there are the more expected reasons, such as how absolute power corrupts, etcetera, etcetera. To be honest, unless a situation is extremely drastic, we don't interfere with regular operation of a universe at all."

I let out a low whistle, impressed. "Yeah, ok. Point made."

Saffron pushed a small piece of paper towards me, along with a pen. "Here. Standard consent form. Make sure you understand it fully."

I took it and read, surprised at the shortness of the statement. It merely read:

 _As a recently deceased member of the mortal world choosing to undertake a new mission in another to earn entrance to the afterlife, I the undersigned understand that any such excursion is voluntary and acknowledge the risks inherent in my selection, up to and including death and permanent termination of my consciousness should the worst come to pass._

"Last chance." Saffron said flatly.

I looked at her, then back at the paper. A moment's pause...then pen met paper, and it was done.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm back._

 _Formerly known as Warhammer 2-4, this is The Silent Orator with Temporal Leap: Incipiens (Reborn). The creativity bug saw fit to bite me once again, so I've started writing again. Things will be a little different this time around. Canon-wise, you can expect me to take some cues from the original Incipiens, such as joining SR, but not too much. I will say this right now:_ _ **NOTHING FROM THE ORIGINAL INCIPIENS IS 100% GUARANTEED TO BE IN THIS RETCON.**_

 _One of the reasons I stopped writing in the first place was because the story had moved away from what I wanted it to be. For this reason, I will be writing chapters deliberately, with no predetermined publish dates. This may take weeks, months, or heaven forbid, even years (but you can count that as very unlikely). I will be focusing on quality first and foremost, and I will not release a chapter until I am satisfied. This story died once, and I have no desire to see it do so again._

 _That said, I have plans for the series. The most immediate one involves a somewhat bold plan: I will be writing Incipiens Reborn up to a certain point, likely joining SR,_ _ **and then I will stop writing TL: IR for that period**_ _and immediately skip ahead to the second chapter of the Temporal Leap continuity,_ _ **TL: Morior Invictus,**_ _which will cover Alex's first time around with Shepard. My reasoning for this is pretty straightforward in that I feel like trying to reconstruct all the stuff I tried to write the first time could potentially bog me down again and discourage me. No thanks. TL: IR will be revisited at a later date, but not immediately. Any potential plot points in the period of time covered by the unwritten parts of TL: IR will be fleshed out before they manifest in later chapters._

 _Many thanks go to my loyal beta reader **The**_ _ **Blocked Writer.**_ _Shoutout to him for helping me flesh out many of the rules and pathways of Purgatory. I'm sure he won't mind if I tell you guys to check out his works.._

 _Those are the major things I wanted to say. But one more….it's good to be back._

 _Some silly things:_

 _No, I will not be making Alex into a Mass Effect Jack Sparrow._

 _No, none of the personal info in Alex's file is actually true._

 _ **HOLY FUCK FALLOUT 4 CONFIRMED.**_

… _.does anyone want to buy it for me? Anyone? No? Kill myself? I'll go do that.. :(_


	2. Chapter 2: Release

.

* * *

 **RESURRECTION**

 **TWO: RELEASE**

* * *

I was soaring once more.

Well, soaring in a figurative sense, anyway.

In reality, it felt more like I was being roughly squeezed through a tube, with more focus on raw efficiency than on any sense of propriety or comfort. I would have thrown up again, were I physically capable of doing so. However, I still managed to make space for an eloquent and insightful thought or two.

 _Ohgodfuckthis-_

 _..._

Then I was forcibly spat out, unceremoniously spilling onto a cold, uncaring steel floor, my limbs flailing about as if I were a rag doll. A _thunk_ sounded as my head banged against the ground.

I gagged, and rolled over just in time to violently empty out my stomach.

" _Guhh…"_

I heaved once more, summoned enough energy to crawl away from the resulting puddle, then slumped to the floor, closed my eyes, and laid still.

 _God-fucking-damnit... They couldn't make this process a little easier?_

Feeling no particular sense of urgency, I stayed there for another minute with my eyes closed, allowing my brain to bitch and moan while my battered body complained. Only after it passed did I lift my head and take in my surroundings.

The first thing I became aware of was a dull, continuous thrumming in the background, reverberating through the air and ground into my very bones. If I wasn't mistaken...it had a sort of _beat_ to it.

 _...wubwubwubwubwubwub-_

 _What is that?_

Blinking furiously, I lifted my chin off the ground and tried to focus. As my senses cleared, I could begin to discern fluctuations in the rhythm of the beat.

 _...wubwubwubwub_ _ **wubwub**_ _wubwubwubwubwub_ _ **WUBWUB**_ _-_

Grimacing, I spat out several lingering chunks of putrid vomit and clambered painfully onto my knees. As my vision refocused, I could finally start to make out my surroundings-

-only to see that it was dark. Again.

"Goddamnit." I muttered, feeling for some sort of surface to prop myself up on. I found it, a nondescript crate, and hauled myself to my feet-

"Get another refill for that keg!" someone yelled as a door I hadn't seen in the darkness suddenly opened and the music went up tenfold. I hurled myself back down so quickly that I nearly slipped and sat down in the puddle, which had started to smell something awful. I heard some shuffling, a box or two getting scraped around, some grunting, and then receding footsteps. Then the door closed, returning the room to silence. Well, relative, anyway.

Cautiously, I peered back over the top of the crate. It seemed clear for the moment, so I migrated over to a non-contaminated corner and examined one of the labels.

 **AVSOT VODKA 100x 2L BOTTLES**

 **STORE IN COOL, DRY PLACE**

"Loud music, alcohol...a club." I muttered, putting the pieces together. "Seriously? Of all places..."

I trailed off, noticing a flickering on the edges of my vision. I blinked, and a blue-tinted HUD-like overlay unexpectedly popped up to show Saffron peering back out at me. " _Ah, there you are._ " she declared, adjusting something on her end. " _Nice ride?_ "

My glare told her _exactly_ what I thought of her ride.

The asari snickered. " _Point taken. Anyway, I have some info for you, but that can wait until you find someplace less public. For the immediate moment, you'll need to be able to communicate with me, so here's the relevant info. Ready?"_ A nod from me. _"Ok. For initiating a connection, think the word_ _ **indefatigable**_ _, and visualize this office._ _ **Indefatigable.**_ _Try it."_

Her image faded, and I was again staring at the crate. I blinked furiously and shook my head to clear it. _Right. Inde...Indefat...fuck! Pronounication..._ _ **Indefatigable**_ _._

Saffron's face reappeared. _"Good. I'm going to cut this short, but I'm leaving a small info-dump in your DPM module. Passcode for the DPM is_ _ **Veritas**_ _. Data packet is_ _ **Sorge**_ _. Feel free to browse at your leisure."_

"Hold up." I exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "DPM?"

" _You'll figure it out."_ the asari said casually, _"Oh yeah, I also left you a thousand creds. Try not to blow it all at once, since that's all the boost you're getting."_ And with that, she was gone.

"Mmph." I grumbled to myself, feeling a faint throbbing in the back of my head. I reached down to scratch an itch on my calves, and paused. "Huh. They changed my clothes."

Gone was the dress wear of earlier. Instead, I was now dressed in contemporary genre-appropriate wear, with semi-loose pants and a fitted casual shirt. The material was some sort of synthetic, stretching softly when put to the touch. My shoes were...something I couldn't identify, but at least they were comfortable enough.

Feeling something in my pants pocket, I reached in and pulled a small chip of some sort. A quick examination showed a strip much like a credit card, and a button that displayed '1000' when depressed. _My credit chit, then. I gotta be conservative with this, at least until I can get more. Like, way more._

 _At least I'm not an alcoholic._

I shook my head to clear out once more, and then resumed peeking over the crate. The music was still as loud as ever, although thankfully muffled. A loud cheer went through the crowd on the other side as a new track started up.

I frowned. "Right." I muttered, gathering myself. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

"No thanks, really." I said quickly, hurriedly ducking to escape the drunken grasps of a woman who looked old enough to be my grandmother. I weaved through the crowd, a pulsing mass of indistinct figures that flickered in and out of neon strobes of light. Pushing between several dancing asari and a boisterous group of cheering salarians, I emerged at the edge of the crowd with the entrance in sight, my heart rate pulsing worriedly all the while.

 _Almost there..._

Wishing to make my exit as unobtrusive as possible, I waited until the bouncer was occupied with a smattering of giggling college girls before slipping out onto the streets-

-and stopping dead in my tracks.

"God. _Damn._ "

I'd been to my share of cities. San Francisco, New York, Rome, Taipei…those were impressive, but this...

 _This_ was a city.

The erratic lighting of the club hadn't been well-suited to analyzing my surroundings and its crowded, sweaty masses. But now…

Clean, polished composite surfaces stretched off in every direction and angle that I could see. Futuristic architecture loomed overhead, all weird angles, durasteel frames, and neon advertisements. Strange technology everywhere I looked; blinking gadgets, holographic displays, gorram _flying fucking cars._ And the people…

Turians. Asari. Salarians. Fellow humans. The odd volus or krogan. Talons and crests and horns, poised avian strides and flowing blue grace that was human-like yet not and sharp, lithe, rapid-fire movements-

It was only after an extended pause and much gawking that I remembered to blink. "Right. Well..." I muttered. "Fuck me."

Exhaling slowly, I mentally shunted aside the part of me that wanted to wander and soak in everything - though not without difficulty - and reviewed the list of immediate priorities that I had drawn up while still in... _Limbo, I guess I can call it._ It wasn't very long:

 _1\. Secure provisions for basic needs and survival._

 _2\. Research and verify that everything in this verse is as it should be._

 _3\. Start finding people and establishing connections._

I paused as some part of my brain considered the enormity of the task I had chosen to undertake.

 _You're so screwed, you realize that?_

 _Yup._

I snorted, before returning my attention to the real world. A strange sensation washed over me as I stood there, feeling hundreds of unfamiliar beings flowing past me in that strange place in a time far distant from everything I had ever known.

I let out a faint sigh.

 _Best get to it, then._

* * *

I tracked the patterns on the surface in front of me, my eyes drifting up and then back down in a U-shape, before swinging around to trace a pair of circles.

 _It's nice to know that the sacred art of drawing dicks on public property hasn't lost any of its popularity._

I was in the bathroom of a department store a few blocks down, hunched over in a semi-lit stall. One, because it offered some privacy from casual eyes. Two, because I actually had really needed it after my stomach-churning...entrance.

 _Right. Now for this 'DPM' thing.._. _what was it?_ _..._ _ **Veritas**_ **.**

I blinked as my vision dimmed and blue-tinted text began...scrolling down from above, similar to the HUD that Saffron and I had talked through earlier.

 _ **Initializing….Data Processing Matrix v.11.62.47…**_

 _ **Temporal Leap...verified.**_

 _ **Welcome Traveler [Alex Li]**_

 _ **Greetings, Jumper. The Data Processing Matrix (DPM) is now online, and will assist you in a multitude of functions, primarily encompassing research, information sorting, and real-time analysis.**_

 _ **High-technology society detected. Designated modules have been activated.**_

 _ **Alien societies detected. Language translation functions online.**_

 _ **Case Green activated. Gene mod integration complete.**_

With this, a menu popped up. I skimmed over several icons such as _'_ _ **Codex**_ _'_ and _'_ _ **VI Assistant**_ _'_ before eyeing one labeled ' _ **Data Retrieval**_ _'_. It even had a little circled '1' in the corner, just like a notification on a smartphone. After a moment, a new 'window' opened, clearly sensing my intent although nothing obvious had triggered it.

 _ **Please input authorization.**_

I chewed briefly on my lip. " **Sorge**."

 _ **Authenticating...**_

 _ **Verified.**_

 _ **Codex update complete. You now have access to a vast database regarding the workings of this universe, including history, technology, and culture. This will be updated as you progress through your travels.**_

I remembered the Codex from the games, and nodded to myself. _That's...useful as shit. It'll definitely make research easier. That, and figuring out more about what the hell I've gotten myself into._

I looked down further.

 _ **New Message**_

….

 _ **It's me. If you're reading this, your DPM should be set up and ready to receive input. Feel free to play around with its functions on your own time. Keep checking back, too. I might have some new features for you from time to time.**_

 _ **Meanwhile, you have an idea of where you need to start. Don't expect opportunities to walk up and present themselves. Make them if you have to.**_

 _ **I'll be here, but I won't be your crutch. This is**_ **your** _ **gig.**_

 _ **Have fun. Try not to fuck up.**_

 _ **-S**_

I snorted at that last bit as I closed the window. _Duly noted._

Returning to the menu, I glanced over a few more of my options. I smirked at ' _ **Music Player**_ _'_ , ' _ **Enchanced Combat Sensor Suite**_ _'_ garnered a raised eyebrow, before I arrived at several icons with red highlights instead of the standard blue, all marked ' _ **Function Offline**_ '.

I quirked my mouth in appraisal. _So I don't quite yet have the full functionality here. So… a 'To Be Revealed' kind of deal, I guess?_

 _Right then...how do I close this thing?_

As if responding to that thought, the HUD-like overlay winked away, and I was back to staring at bathroom stall dicks.

 _Doth taketh but a thought,_ I thought wryly before standing up and flushing. As I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and paused for a moment to examine myself.

I saw a tall, dark-haired Asian male standing upright, built with the solid physique of a seasoned strength athlete. Dark brown eyes stared unflinchingly back at me, framed by a angled, tensed jaw line and furrowed eyebrows over a slighted tanned canvas. Subtle lines creased his forehead, as if they had been scrunched up too many times from stress, and his eyes were wary yet sharp, and almost cold in their regard.

 _I don't know why I'm seeing this image in front of me right now.  
_

 _That plane crumpled your car like a tin can. You were mincemeat. You were crushed beyond recognition. That should have been it. Lights out. That's a wrap._

 _I should be dead._

 _Instead, I'm not._

 _That's not how this is supposed to work._

I blinked, and the eyes softened slightly, as if retracting some of their edge. Out of reflex, I reached up and brushed back a few stray strands of hair as I exhaled, and lifted my chin up slightly.

 _Easy now. You've got a lot ahead of you. Don't need to run yourself ragged with your own thoughts._

With that, I took a breath, mentally identified and isolated the stress and apprehension of my arrival, and shoved it into a closet in my mind to be dealt with later once I had time.

 _Well. Shall we?_

* * *

My first priority was to get myself a hot meal.

As it turned out, the entries in the Codex that I had been provided proved to be immensely useful for blending in, and _not_ looking like a clueless nobody. In a few hours, I took crash courses in things like using my new credit chit, calling for public transport, how to use a terminal, among other things. I looked up basic cultural norms and other quirks of the proverbial melting pot that was the Citadel, all the better to blend in and not step on any toes. Or talons.

The Codex also proved to be of use in providing some real time guidance. It had some of the features that I might have expected from the extranet. In general, my DPM seemed capable of pulling data from the extranet, but it seemed unable to _influence_ it, with no ability to say, post on a extranet forum or send messages. Among the things it _could_ pull up, however, appeared to include what seemed to be the contemporary equivalent of Google Maps, which I quickly put to use.

It was the name that caught my eye. Pagoda's Loft. A privately-funded shelter in the lower Wards - one of many such institutions - that attended to the destitute peoples of the Yukothi District, Zakera Ward, where I had ended up. Now, I was on my way over to check it out and see what they might provide - not that I was the type of person who required luxury. I was perfectly content with a hot meal and a soft bed, and needed little else to continue functioning, at least while I got myself established.

On first impression, Yukothi District was fairly average. It wasn't super shiny, but it wasn't obviously unkempt. It had the same side streets, the same storefronts, the same offensively bright neon advertisements. The crowds were at a level what I'd normally expect from any other place, the bustling activity coalescing into tides of people flowing in and out of traffic. Overhead, to the side, and below, aircars both private and public zipped by, the more distant ones forming silver streams that seemed to soar and weave.

Continuing on, I did start to see a few groups of people standing off to the side and not really saying anything, which put me a bit on edge. People didn't just congregate in small groups and then not say anything to each other.

I could swear I felt eyes on the back of my neck as I walked.

As I passed one particular group of humans, their heads turned to regard me, and their eyes narrowed. I straightened my posture, returned the stare to let them know I was aware of their presence, and quietly wished for the folding knife I normally carried, whose absence I was now acutely aware of.

Nonetheless, I stuck to the crowds, and steered well clear of any isolated areas. It was in this area that Pagoda's Loft stood. Judging from the name, I had expected there to be some Earth influence, probably from one of the Central or East Asian religions.

What I had not expected upon walking in was to see a _turian_ standing attentively by the entrance, humbly dressed in simple silks. A purple strip of cloth hung around his neck adorned with what I recognized to be Chinese characters, although I personally couldn't read any of it.

Upon my entrance, he clasped his hands in front of him and gave me a small nod. "Welcome, traveler."

I blinked in surprise, but unconsciously stood straighter and respectfully inclined my own head in return. "And to you as well, sir."

The turian smiled - at least, I thought he did. It was hard to tell with their kind. "I am Valmius Kavatus, the warden of this refuge, so to speak. If you are here because you need food or something to quench your thirst, head through the doors on your right and one of my brothers can help you. If you require anything, simply ask."

"I- thank you." I said, struck by the generosity of it all, mentally making a note to talk to the kind turian later.

He merely smiled again, green eyes gleaming against the darker shades of his skin. "You're welcome."

With my stomach growling, I followed Valmius' directions through the door and into a small cafeteria, where a cheerful salarian directed me through a meal line marked " **LEVO"**. Walking through, I loaded my tray with a few staples: rice and assorted grains ( _thank god)_ , some vegetables and lean meats, at least two-thirds of which were alien to me - literally, and some breads which I didn't recognize. Grabbing some fruit juice and a glass of water, I sat down in a corner and began to tear through my meal.

 _Ah, sweet food. How have I ever survived without you?_

In my head, a few different representatives jumped in on a running commentary as I ate. The foodie was interested in the alien bits of food, contemplating the flavors and textures and assigning them to different profiles. The gym rat was concerned with maintaining an adequate caloric intake and getting enough protein to sustain my lean body mass. The snarky asshole side of me noted dryly that it was like being back at school all over again and eating meals alone in the corner. The basic primal part of me was simply happy to have something to feed an empty stomach.

As I ate, I looked around the room. A wall clock read **2100,** which on Earth would have been fairly late in the evening, but due to the Wards' lack of an artificial day-night schedule, the cafeteria was still moderately occupied by other drifters of various races. A few had glanced up when I came in, but for the most part, no one paid me any mind.

My eyes furrowed as my gaze fell upon a female turian sitting in one of the corners. Most of the drifters' clothes were simple, urban, and conventional. Hers on the other hand, bore faint outlines in definite patterns and budged in places that reminded me in a way of light combat gear. I noted what looked to be a rectangular cube with engravings on her hip, which threw me off for a moment.

 _Oh, right. The guns fold up here. Looks like a heavy pistol, if my memory serves me correctly._

Some instinct must have alerted her to my stare, for her eyes flickered up to meet mine. I blinked at first, but held eye contact - not challengingly but firmly enough, just for a moment, and gave her a short nod.

A few minutes later, I was walking towards the corner to drop off my empty tray, when the turian's voice stopped me.

"Finding everything alright?"

It was a statement, not a question.

I took a moment to consider the speaker. A female turian, as I had thought - a bit older, in her late 30s, if I could tell correctly. Now that I was up close, I could definitely see the combat influence on her gear, and the pistol on her hip suddenly looked a lot bigger.

"Yeah, I really appreciated the meal." A pause. "Are you with..?"

"Just acquainted." she replied. "But I'm glad it's been helpful. A lot of people rely on this place."

"It's a relief to not have to worry." I agreed, stepping over and stacking my tray onto a pile.

"Well no matter where you're from, everyone gets down on their luck sometimes," the turian commented, "although you look a bit different from our usual patrons."

"How so?" I replied, tensing slightly.

Her mandibles twitched, as if in...amusement? "Most of the drifters here are on autopilot. Wake up, eat, head out to the streets or work, if they're lucky enough. That's life for them, and that's how they move." She shifted, sitting more upright. "You don't seem like a native. You seem like you're anticipating something. Like this is just a phase." I blinked, surprised at how quickly she had cut to the core of things. She shrugged in return. "I don't know what it is, but you don't seem to be here to cause trouble, so I won't ask."

"I...well, you got the gist of it." I responded, giving a faintly sheepish smile. A pause. "You don't much look like a drifter yourself, either."

"I suppose the sidearm gave it away." she quipped. "No, I'm not. Julveen Kavatus. You saw my brother on the way in. You can call me Jul."

"Alex Li." I answered, extending a hand, which she looked at for a second before shaking it. "Nice to meet you." I took a seat. "I take it you're not a Buddhist, then." I remarked, gesturing to her sidearm.

It was her turn to blink. "You know my brother's religion? I know it's human, but.."

"From a distance." I admitted. "I didn't expect to see a turian taking to it, though."

"Valmius has always been the odd one out." Jul shrugged, producing a flask and taking a sip. "My family's always served in one way or another. My parents were both decorated turian military. I have a younger sister in the Special Response Division, and I," she continued, tapping her pistol, "do some contracting work on the side."

"And your brother became a Buddhist." I noted dryly.

Jul chuckled, a soft almost-rasp. "He's always been more into the abstract side of things. Joined about five years ago? You humans had settled a bit more into the galactic stage by that point, and your culture was disseminating. He was a practitioner of asari _siari_ already, but he was looking for more. Now he tends toward a mixture of the two."

I considered this for a moment. "I bet that contrast leads to some interesting discussions in your family."

The turian reached up to scratch something on her neck. "It could be worse," she shrugged. "We're all still turian, and we remember it means to serve. Valmius is just less willing to deal in violence unless he has no other choice." She frowned, or at least I thought she did. "At least he stays out of trouble. This area of the Wards isn't exactly the prettiest."

I furrowed my brow, remembering the loner groups from earlier, in particular the one with the humans. "In what way, exactly?"

Jul's expression became a scowl. "Some dealers around here. Higher population of sand blasters than the average." It took me a moment to realize she was talking about red sand. "And the gang activity that comes along with all that. Minor presence around here, but they're stronger next door over in Yalsemata District." The turian paused to take another swig from her flask. "I don't think they like the congregation of drifters. Sometimes we get a few shady people coming around. My brother's a pretty diplomatic figure, but sometimes they get a little bit aggressive." She paused. "I'm sorry, I've been rambling and you probably just want to get to bed."

"No, it's fine." I replied sincerely. "I'm probably going to need to rely on this place for a bit longer, and it's good to know more about the area."

She nodded her assent. "Still, it's getting late, so to speak. I'm here for a few more days, so if you want to learn more, we can keep chatting tomorr- ah, Valmius. There you are."

I turned, and there was the turian who had greeted me at the door. Now that the siblings were in the same room, I could see the resemblance. True, they were opposite sexes, Jul's skin tone was a bit lighter, and Valmius was a bit shorter, but both had the same green face paint and the same green eyes.

"Jul." he said, smiling briefly, before turning to me. "Hello again, traveler. I see you've met my older sister."

"Just talking, getting a feel for things around here." I responded. "Thank you for the meal, by the way."

"Think nothing of it." he responded sincerely, and I could tell that he meant it. "There are beds open if you wish to sleep, just back through the door and straight across from the entrance."

"Any activity from those hu- those other humans today?" Jul asked. To me, she added. "Some of those aggressors I was talking about."

"Not today," Valmius responded, "but I don't believe this will be the last we've been of them. Hopefully they can see reason, but-"

"You know as well as I do that that's not going to happen." Jul sighed, taking one final swig.

"There's no telling if I don't try." he replied firmly, and that seemed to be that.

"Extend one hand if you want, but you'd better have a dagger ready in the other." she responded, and stood up. "I'll be back in the morning. Catch you guys later."

"Until then." her brother responded, and they shared a quick embrace before she left. _Despite their differences, they seem to get along just fine. And they're both pretty nice. I could have done worse._

An hour later, I was sound asleep. I hadn't radically changed the timeline in one day, but neither had I gotten shot or thrown into prison. I was laying in a comfy bed with a reasonably full stomach, and was in no immediate physical danger. All in all, not a bad first day. Maybe I could keep my head down and continue this trend for the time being.

Hah. What a load of shit.

* * *

 _A/N: Hehe...so, one year late? I really hadn't had any inspiration throughout the last school year, which was honestly pretty shit. Hopefully I can ride this train for longer this time, but no promises._

 _Hats off to **The Blocked Writer** for being alive and around to proofread my shit._


End file.
